


After Dinner

by postjentacular



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1000 words, Drunk!Hermione, F/M, Kinda EWE, Lots of mentions of Draco's bollocks, Not much plot, One Shot, Rated T for the bollock-mentioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postjentacular/pseuds/postjentacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is tasked with getting a festively drunk Hermione home where her secret lover is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Dinner

Molly Weasley sat down and relaxed for the first time that day. Everyone had been fed to the point of bursting, her grandkids - blood, adopted and miscellaneous others - back from Hogwarts for Christmas break had been sent upstairs ostensibly to sleep while her children along with their assorted current, ex and future spouses were spread around the living room in varying stages of relaxation and, in many cases, drunkenness. 

Arthur was explaining to Harry - or perhaps Harry was explaining to Arthur - how muggles had eventually worked out how to get their own wizard photos; they were mostly of cats falling off tables and could only be viewed through a box connected to a series of tubes, but Arthur was impressed with them nonetheless. Fleur had fallen asleep in Bill’s lap, Ron was loudly and simultaneously losing two arguments to George and Charlie over minor Quiddich regulations while Ron’s ex-wife, Hermione, gossiped in animated but hushed tones with Ginny in the corner. It was, to Molly’s delight as she sipped her tea, a perfectly normal Weasley Christmas.

Hermione got to her feet, with a little stumble, “Mrs Weas- ‘Oll- Molly, thanks for dinner, I’m just a little ...overexerted… going to Floo home. I’ll see you on Saturday to pick up the kids.”

“You will do no such thing, Hermione Granger,” Molly admonished, “smartest witch of her age or not, you can barely speak straight, you jump into that fireplace and we’ll have to spend the rest of the evening searching the Floo Network for you. Ronnie’ll side-along you home.”

Ginny shot her husband a look. It was one of a thousand possible looks she could have given him, but he knew immediately this look meant: _’you need to step in and do something here’_. He gave her the slightest of nods and stood up, clapping Ron on the shoulder as he passed, “It’s all right, Mrs W, I’ll take her”. He strode past them into the hallway to look for Hermione's cloak; Ginny slipped out unnoticed behind him.

“Harry,” she whispered and stepped close into him, “you need to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he kissed her forehead.

“Behave.”

“I always do.”

“No, Harry, this isn’t a joke. Hermione’s been seeing someone and it’s pretty serious. He moved in with her two weeks ago, but she hasn’t told anyone yet, not even Rose and Hugo.” 

“Okay,” his eyes went wide and his lips smirked.

“Harry James Potter,” she lightly punched his shoulder, “you promise me right now you will behave, that means no hexes,” another punch, “no curses,” another punch, “and no insults”, a final punch, “Is that clear?”

“I promise, dear.” 

Harry settled Hermione’s cloak over her shoulders, pulled his own robes over his newest Weasley Christmas jumper and offered his arm; immediately The Burrow disappeared around them and was swiftly replaced by her bijou flat.

Draco looked up from his book as Harry and Hermione apparated into the flat with a pop. “Malfoy,” Harry’s wand was out and trained on the blond man, a curse on the tip of his tongue, before he heard Ginny’s voice in his head: _Behave_. He stayed his tongue, but kept his wand pointed directly at Malfoy. Draco put his book down languidly and looked at Harry with bored resignation, _here we go again_.

As Harry shifted his stance Hermione stumbled slightly from his arms. Before Harry had a chance to tighten his hold or she had a chance to hit the floor Draco had crossed the room and caught her. Although it was years since his last game of Quiddich, his seeker’s speed was still there.

Hermione flung her arms around Draco’s neck and he slipped one of his around her waist to keep her upright. “Hey Dray,” she drawled, then with a giggle, “that rhymes.”

“Yes,” he said softly, “yes, it does, love.” He kissed the top of her head, his steel grey eyes never leaving Harry. Harry stared back, unblinking, threatening.

“Either hex my bollocks off, or put the wand down, Potter.”

Neither man flinched. 

“Noooo,” Hermione broke the stalemate, “I like Draco’s bollocks.”

A slight blush raised over Draco’s pale cheeks, “Merlin, Granger. How much have you had to drink?” The only response he got was a small snore as she nuzzled further into his neck. “Okay love, time for bed, l think,” he scooped up her legs with his free arm and carried her towards the bedroom. “Potter, as my bollocks seem to be safe for now, make yourself useful and find some Pepper-up Potion, there should be some in the bathroom.”

Harry slowly lowered his wand and tucked it back into his robes. He found a phial of potion in the bathroom cabinet and delivered it, along with glass of water, to the bedroom. Hermione was fast asleep under the covers looking as peaceful as he’d ever seen her, Malfoy was perched on the edge of the bed stroking her hair. There was a look on his face which Harry hadn’t seen before, it was almost soft, like there wasn’t a mean bone in his body or a sarcastic thought in his head. It was frankly unnerving.

Harry lightly cleared his throat to make his presence known and Malfoy’s head shot up, the usual hard lines showing. The loving look was for her, only for her. Malfoy nodded towards the bedside table indicating Potter should leave the liquids there. Harry did so and turned to leave the room without a word. He barely heard Malfoy’s “thank you,” and he didn’t acknowledge it. Neither of them were ready for that.

By the time he got back to The Burrow everyone had gone to bed. Harry crept past Ron, snoring on the sofa, and upstairs to Ginny’s childhood bedroom. He climbed into bed and big-spooned around his wife.

“Did you behave?” she murmured sleepily.

“He still has his bollocks... for now.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I don’t know if that’ll still be the case once your brother finds out.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Standard fanfic disclaimer** : If you recognise it, it belongs to J.K. Rowling; this is just fanfic for nothing other than entertainment purposes.


End file.
